


The Mystrade Advent Calender

by Hippety



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calender, Christmas, Corset, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 13,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hippety/pseuds/Hippety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This advent calendar follows Mycroft and Greg from the 1st of December to the 25th. Mostly just pure fluff, which may or may not contain hectic Christmas shopping, unexpected mistletoes and occasional snuggling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Snowflake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [specialstuffdealer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=specialstuffdealer).



**Day 1: The First Snowflake**

If it wouldn’t have been for the snowflakes suddenly landing on his nape Greg wouldn’t had noticed that it had started snowing. He was walking as quickly in order to get to the Tube station before it closed for the night. Even though he kept his eyes straight on the road ahead of him his mind was far away, and certainly not focusing on the cold flakes falling down on the ground.

Another long and demanding day at the Yard had passed far too slowly for Greg’s liking, and the cold air of the London night did its best to get through his clothes. The policeman was actually genuinely surprised that it had started snowing, but he wasn’t sure whether he minded it or not. Snow usually gave him cosy, warm feelings, reminding him of his childhood days, playing by the open fire with his sister, while his mum was knitting on the couch next to them. Of course those feelings unfortunately were related with Christmas - nowadays he got a headache just by hearing someone mention the word. To Greg the winter feast meant stressing over shopping Christmas gifts, trying to remember to send Christmas cards to all distant relatives and of course, panicking over whether or not he could manage to get free from work over the holidays or not.

The only light at the end of the long tunnel of garish Christmas crackers and nightly migraine attacks was a certain government official. This would be the first Christmas Greg and Mycroft would spend together as a couple. Somehow that thought managed to lighten up the detective inspectors mind as he touched the yellow reader with his Oyster card and started to descend the stairs towards the train.  He adjusted the collar of his coat, and as he did so some of the small snowflakes managed to fall down on the back of his neck again. Naturally they melted as soon as they touched his hot skin, but still, the feeling of the oncoming winter and Christmas still lingered.  And Greg decided that this year, Christmas was going to be something good.

 


	2. A Night-time Winter Drive

**Day 2: A Night-time Winter Drive**

The city of London was very much asleep as Mycroft passed through the heart of the capital in one of his private cars. Or maybe sleeping wasn’t the right word. Dozing heavily, more like, since there still was a few people strayed around on the freezing streets, keeping he city moving just slightly. To be honest the politician never truly thought London was fully asleep, not very unlike himself.

But he could also feel his eyelids getting heavier and heavier as he slowly approached his final destination – his and Greg’s flat on the southwest corner of Hyde Park. He was agog to meet his boyfriend for the first time for a week, even though Greg most likely already had went to bed a long time ago.

Suddenly, as he was passing by the silent silhouette of Marble Arch, his phone buzzed in the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

_Will you be home soon? Do you want me to get some food? XXX - Greg_

It took a few moments for Mycroft to react properly, his brain working on overtime as well as the thoughtfulness of his boyfriend touching him deeply. Greg must have worked late tonight then as well, and yet he had bothered to send him the text. The government official smiled, and tapped on the foreclosure between himself and the driver with the cane of his umbrella, encouraging him to speed up the last few hundred yards. 


	3. A Christmas Tree Hunt

**Day 3: A Christmas Tree Hunt**

‘Are you sure it’s not too big?’ Greg asked as he very doubtfully looked up and down the very tall silver. ‘I know the ceiling in your flat-’

‘ _Our_ flat, my dear,’ Mycroft amended as he made a summoning gesture at the Christmas tree vendor.

‘Well, I know the ceiling in _our_ flat is quite high, but do you really think it’ll fit in?’

‘Of course it will,’ the politician smiled and took his boyfriend’s hand in his own. ‘Besides I want a proper Christmas tree.’

Greg shrugged his shoulders, rattling his teeth as he pressed closer to the other man.

‘A silver fir for a silver fox,’ Mycroft continued and gave the policeman an unusually happy smile.

The cobby man in charge of the newly set up spruces waddled up to Greg and Mycroft, and the younger man started to negotiate about a reasonable price. Greg didn’t really listen; he was too busy staring at the huge Christmas tree in front of him, wondering _how on earth_ they were going to get that into their narrow staircase.

When Mycroft was done and had paid for the huge fir he had an almost childish grin on his face.

‘This is going to be great,’ he smiled as he nuzzled into his slightly reserved boyfriend’s side.

‘Except for the fact that someone’s going to have to carry it home…’

‘Well, someone’s being pouty today,’ Mycroft teased.

‘Sorry, I just had a rough day,’ Greg said apologetically as he rubbed his temples, trying to fight back the oncoming migraine attack.  

‘It will soon be better, I promise. In fact they offer home delivery, which makes a lot quite a lot easier.’ The government official took Greg’s hand again as two brawny lads carried away their newly purchased fir to a van. ‘I know you’re not very fond of Christmas, but maybe you could at least try? For my sake?’

‘Of course I will,’ Greg responded quickly, ‘but I have my reasons to not like it.’

They started to walk home, and for the first couple of minutes they walked in silence. A few times the detective inspector leered at his boyfriend, feeling like a little school boy who clearly had done something wrong but was too proud to admit it. Mycroft still had a little grin on his face as he twirled the handle of his umbrella in his hand, the tip of the umbrella spinning round in a circle at his side.

‘Why are you so unusually cheery then?’ Greg finally asked to break the silence, trying to divert the attention from his own dislike of Christmas.

‘I just happen to like the Christmas tradition very much, it was the only time of the year my whole family would be together without fighting.’

‘Oh, right, I see,’ Greg said carefully. He was very well aware of Mycroft strained relations with his parents, and didn’t really fancy taking up the subject at the moment.

‘Don’t look as if someone has died, it’s a good thing!’ Mycroft laughed as they approached the apartment building which accommodated their flat. When Greg didn’t answer the politician stopped and gave the older man a long look as snow once again began to fall carelessly down at them. ‘Greg, Christmas is actually something good, believe me. We’ve both got busy schedules this month, just as usual, but I promise it will be our best one together.’

‘I suppose so,’ Greg said, but squirmed under his boyfriend’s gaze, still feeling guilty for ruining the mood, ‘you’ve never been wrong before.’

‘No, I have not,’ Mycroft beamed and as their home got within eyeshot. ‘Now let’s see if they’ve got here with the Christmas tree before us!’

 


	4. A Mistletoe Miracle

**Day 4: A Mistletoe Miracle**

Greg shot a last look at the clock above the door to his office as he threw his coat over one of his shoulders, realising that he already was ten minutes late for the lunch with his boyfriend. There had been a few papers that had had to be signed before he took off for lunch, and by now Greg was practically starving.

He hadn’t managed to do more than leave the room and started heading out in the corridor before someone confidentially grabbed him by the waist. Then there was suddenly a pair of crushing lips against Greg’s, and as the policeman eyes widened in surprise there was another arm at his shoulder. The attacker pulled him closer as the brutal lips did their best to part Greg’s still slightly reluctant ones.

The only thing that Greg managed to notice before he closed his eyes was the flash of an auburn curl of hair, and then he let Mycroft gain access to his mouth immediately. In fact it only took the policeman a split second to drop his coat to the floor and then he started pulling at the other man’s pinstriped suit jacket.

In between the hungry kisses Greg tried to say something, in order to find out what had brought on this sudden, yet very welcome, snogging session. But the politician just made a low shushing noise and started to bite softly at the older man’s bottom lip while one of his hands pulled at the grey hair, the other grabbing the back of Greg’s shirt.

The detective inspector couldn’t help but smile at the whole situation; Mycroft who usually was so controlled and proper had now moved on to sucking at the older man’s willing neck. Greg was thankful that everyone at the office had left for lunch - the two of them would have made quite a sight.

By now they weren’t even kissing, Mycroft was pressing him up against the grey office wall as they more or less just licked and bit at each other’s lips and jaws ungracefully, without giving a care in the world. It was amazing what Mycroft could do with that talented tongue of his; if he wouldn’t have known better Greg would have said that it had years of practise beyond it. But the fact of how inexperienced the government official actually was made Greg even more excited and aroused, encouraging him to slid a hand under the man’s waistcoat.

Just as the detective inspector felt the younger man pulling at his belt there was a sudden sound of someone clearing their throat a bit further down the corridor. Greg opened his eyes and found Dimmock awkwardly looking out of the window as he fiddled with a couple of folders. Mycroft gave his boyfriend’s buttock one last feverish squeeze, and then adjusted his clothes as he turned around to the other policeman.

‘Detective inspector Dimmock.’

Greg’s colleague acknowledged the greeting with a short nod, and the silver-haired man gave a condoning smile while he picked up his coat from the floor. As he did so he noticed the mistletoe hanging in the ceiling outside his office door. His grin widened and he took a small leap to catch up with Mycroft who was already heading down the corridor. As they went into the lift Greg tugged down his shirt back in his trousers and made a mental note to thank whoever had put up the mistletoe in the office. 


	5. Christmas Cookie Frenzy

**Day 5: Christmas Cookie Frenzy**

‘Why can’t it just stop sticking to the bloody rolling pin?’ Mycroft complained as he put the baking tool back down on the kitchen counter. The government official sighed and gave the gingerbread dough a distrusting look before turning around to find his boyfriend chuckling silently next to him.

It had been Mycroft’s idea to bake some gingerbread, but what he had had in mind was far from the ordeal he had been facing for the last hour. He had imagined that Greg would have been the one doing the practical bit, while Mycroft himself would have been supervising him from the kitchen table with a glass of sherry in his hand. But the older man had prompted that they both needed to participate, which was why Mycroft now was wearing a stained apron and had the sleeves of his expensive Oxford shirt rolled up. The only thing that was good about it was that he had managed to convince Greg to bake him some chocolate chip cookies. The policeman had been quite easy to persuade once Mycroft had promised that he would let Greg feed him the cookies while wearing nothing but the apron once they were done.

‘Can’t you just do it? Please?’ Mycroft tried as he started scratching one of his cheeks, quickly realising that the flour smeared out on his face caused his skin to itch.

‘What would the fun be in that?’

‘Oh stop it!’

‘Well, if you want to have cookies and gingerbread you’ll have to make it, right?’ Greg asked, still not managing to hide the fact that he found Mycroft being so absolutely terrible at something so very amusing.

‘I don’t care,’ Mycroft said tiredly and sat down on one of the chairs by the kitchen table, ‘I’ll leave this to you anyway! I am, as I told you before, completely useless when it comes to anu kind of cooking or baking.’

‘I’m not going to argue with that,’ Greg said with a smug look, but when his boyfriend looked him at dejectedly he quickly amended: ‘Alright, alright sorry. But then you’ll have to do the dishes.’

‘I will gladly do that,’ the younger man answered and tried to take of his apron, but he somehow got stuck in it with one of his arms. Mycroft gave up an exhausted cry before crossing his legs resolutely, still annoyed by his own lack of handiness.

The detective inspector gave yet another little laugh as he took up the rolling pin Mycroft had left a few moments earlier and started to roll out the dough.

‘Stop laughing; there is nothing amusing about this whatsoever!’

Greg crinkled his eyes and then turned on the radio, only to a few moments later start whistling along to _Last Christmas_ which happened to be playing.

The government official stayed on the chair by the table, allowing himself a little reluctant smile when he realised that Greg actually was doing something related to Christmas without making any fuzz whatsoever. 


	6. Christmas Tunes

**Day 6: Christmas Tunes**

Mycroft was fingers were shaking inauspiciously as he speed dialled his boyfriend’s number. It had stopped snowing the night before, but the winter sun didn’t do much to warm up the politician who was standing outside Number 10. By old habit he reached inside the inner pocket of his coat for a packet of cigarettes that weren’t there, and therefore gave a disappointed huff.

_‘Detective inspector Lestrade speaking.’_

‘Hello, my love,’ Mycroft replied, ‘are you making any progress in case of the murder in the West End?’

_‘Yes, we actually got in some very important information concerning the murder weapon this morning that might be vital for the case.’_

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ the politician gave one of the ministers of the cabinet a restrained smile as he walked pass, ‘I was wondering, since I owe you a favour for yesterday, with the baking and-’

_‘You kind of made up for that last night afterwards, remember?’_

Suddenly the coldness of the chilly weather wasn’t the only reason to why Mycroft’s cheeks were red.

‘Oh, don’t be so shallow, Gregory!’ There was a pleasant snort at the other end of the line. ‘I thought I would make it up to you - tomorrow I will have to put up Christmas decorations…’

_‘Didn’t you just say that you wanted to make it up to me?’_ Greg asked jokingly, but the government official could almost swear that he had heard some real discomfort in his boyfriend’s voice.

‘Hold on, my dear, I’m not finished. I thought that maybe you could prepare some Christmas themed music that I could listen to when I put up the decorations, like a mix tape or something of the kind...’

_‘Yeah , sure, I think I could do that.’_

A genuine smug grin spread across Mycroft’s face.

‘Good. I’m afraid I have to work over night – there is an important election in the West Indies this evening.’

_‘Alright, see you later. Love you, and all.’_

‘Bye, I love you too. And take care,’ he then added, slowly shifting his weight from one feet to another.

_‘Why are you suddenly sounding so concerned?’_

‘You are chasing a murderer who has chopped of three people’s heads during the past week.’

The detective inspector chuckled once again. ‘You’re sometimes worse than my mother, d’you know that? Bye Mycroft.’

‘Bye dear.’

Mycroft assumed a look of smugness as he stepped inside Number 10 again, glad that another stage of Operation Show Gregory That Christmas Is Something Good had succeeded. 


	7. Decorations

**Day 7: Decorations**

‘I’ve got the mix tape!’ Greg cheerily called out from the hall. ‘For a minute I thought I wouldn’t manage to make it, here it is!’ Within seconds the policeman appeared in the doorway, with a huge grin on his face and a CD in his hand.

‘Good evening, Gregory,’ Mycroft smiled as he put down the sparkly garland, ‘I’m very happy that you did.’

‘Indeed.’ With a few steps the older man was by his boyfriend, pressing a light-hearted kiss on the politician’s cheek. ‘I can see that you’ve already started with the decorations…’

‘Well, I got home earlier than expected, and I thought that I might as well start.’

‘Of course, of course,’ Greg said and waved the CD in front of Mycroft prouder than a child who had won the first prize in a sandcastle building competition. ‘I might as well put this on then?’

‘Yes, please do,’ the government official answered as he turned his attention back to the box of garlands and ornaments.

Billy Idol’s cover of _Run_ _Rudolph Run_ sounded loudly through the whole flat as Greg pressed play, and he felt a fulminant touch of nervousness, like he always did when he presented a mix tape to his boyfriend. With an anticipative smile the detective inspector sat down in the sofa and started filling out the forms he had brought home to work, waiting for a reaction from the younger man.

After a couple of minutes Greg looked up, and found that Mycroft seemed to be enjoying the music. At least it seemed so to the policeman, for he had started to almost unnoticeably tap his foot along to the beat of _Frosty the Snowman_ , which had been more than the policeman had dared to hope for.

Mycroft then stood up on the end of his toes in order to attach one of the garlands to the ceiling. As Greg gazed down at his boyfriend’s feet he could almost swear that he saw a glimpse of what looked like nylon under the Italian leather shoes. But before the older man had got a chance to take a proper look the politician had put down his heels and walked over to the box again, so the policeman just shook his head and turned his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Half an hour or so later Greg let out a content sigh and stretched back on the sofa, finally done with filling out all the forms. Mycroft was quick to turn around from the Christmas tree, and was unexpectedly rapidly by the other man’s side by the sofa.

‘Are you done, my love?’

‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ the detective inspector answered, interestingly sucking on the end of the pen he was still holding in his hand. ‘Have you any ideas for what we could do for the rest of the evening? If you’re done with the tree, that is…’

‘Maybe I do.’ Mycroft leant forward, steadying himself on of the armrests as he let a hand ghost over his boyfriend’s crotch before whispering into his ear. ‘How about something like this?’

Greg hummed appreciatively and dropped the pen, and started to gently lick at the government official’s earlobe. Then he pulled the other man closer, guiding him down to lie on the sofa. When Mycroft followed his movements the policeman realised that this would be a good opportunity to inspect his boyfriend’s feet a bit closer and therefore eagerly slipped down over the other man’s body. He slowed down a bit, only to let his hands run over Mycroft’s arms, chest and legs, carefully avoiding the more private parts of his body.

To his great amusement and arousal, it was indeed nylon that Greg had spotted on the government official. With an excited look he peered up at his boyfriend.

‘Are you…?’

‘I am indeed wearing stockings,’ Mycroft answered with a smug look upon his face. ‘Care to remove my clothes to get a better look of it?’

With a growl Greg slid off his boyfriends shoes, and then took some of the younger man’s nylon clad toes in his mouth, nibbling at them teasingly. He massaged the sole of his foot with one hand, and started to slid up the leg with the other one, quickly realising that the pinstriped trousers was a bit in the way of his loving caresses. When Greg looked up he was met by the excitatory sight of Mycroft arching back with his eyes closed, yet somehow elegantly unbuttoning his waistcoat. Feeling that there was no time to be wasted the policeman let go of his boyfriend’s foot, giving the toes a last teasing lick, before crawling up over the other man’s foot in order to help him remove the waistcoat.

Once it was off Greg first made a quick work of his own shirt, then his lover’s braces and the first few buttons of the other man’s shirt. While doing this Mycroft took the chance give the detective inspector’s arse a good couple of squeezes, enjoying Greg’s mock-annoyed facial expressions as he tried to unbutton the clothes as smoothly as possible.

When the policeman was down to the second button of the fine cotton shirt, Mycroft caught his attention by putting a hand on his stubbly jaw and turning his eyes to catch his gaze.

‘Hold on, just for a minute, Gregory.’

The older man planted a kiss on the top of his lover’s exposed chest, his nose nudging slightly against the soft chest hair, and then curiously reclined backwards. Mycroft steadied himself against the armrest behind him, and then caught his lover’s gaze, staring at Greg intently as he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons of his shirt by himself.

What he revealed made Greg inhale sharply and caused a very interested twitch in his pants. His boyfriend was wearing a black corset that covered his skin from the line of his trousers to a few inches below his nipples. It seemed to be made out of the softest silk, with crimson ornaments round the edges. The older man remained almost frozen on the spot as Mycroft removed his shirt completely, tossing it next to the sofa where it joined the rest of the removed clothes.

‘Pleasant as it is that you’re eyeing me up and down, but are you really going to just stare at me for the rest of the evening, Gregory?’

He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Greg spread his hands over the other man’s torso, his fingertips mapping every inch of it as well as the contrast between the corset and Mycroft’s skin. The politician encouraged him, by grabbing a fistful of the older man’s hair, touching his muscled shoulders with the other hand.

‘You planned this, didn’t you?’ the detective asked with a hoarse voice as he looked up at his lover.

‘Indeed. It took me some time to figure out, but it seems that I was correct in my assumption that it would turn you on if I wore women’s clothing…’ Mycroft’s tone was simple, and yet so inviting that Greg had to resist the urge to just throw himself over him and ravish the man completely there and then.

Instead he moved his hands down with as much calm as he could muster in order to remove the younger man’s trousers. Mycroft kept on stroking through his hair as he did so, and a deep moan escaped Greg when he revealed the line of a black pair of knickers, decorated with thin lace in the same crimson colour as the corset.

‘Oh God…’ He continued pulled off the pinstriped trousers, only to find the top of the garter stockings, which he immediately leant down towards and put his lips to. ‘You have no idea what this does to me, Mycroft.’

‘You don’t think so?’ His boyfriend made a suggestive nod towards his groin and teasingly played with the edge of the lace of the knickers between the tip of his forefinger and thumb.

The policeman took his time to explore the other man’s long legs, making sure to fondle and caress every last inch of it. All the time that he was encouraged by his boyfriend, who’s panting was becoming quicker and quicker.

After a while Mycroft sat up carefully, making sure that his boyfriend followed his movements, and then united their mouths when both were sitting up straight. Their movements became more purposeful and daring as their kisses developed, Mycroft trying to work of his boyfriend’s trousers as Greg caressed his lover’s thighs.

They soon realised that the sooner the detective inspector’s trousers got off the better, and therefore Greg removed them as quickly as possible. Mycroft then leant down on the sofa again, and the older man’s mouth quickly found its way to the politician’s trapped erection.

Greg sucked through the material of the lingerie, at the same time as he encouraged his boyfriend to put his foot to his own crotch, which the other man willingly did. The politician’s soft strokes matched the heat of his lover’s tongue, and Greg felt his arousal growing faster and faster for each minute.

Both of them were moaning passionately when the policeman decided to free Mycroft’s cock, the limited space of the knickers hastening the need for direct touch.  Greg began to stroke gently up and down the now fully erected member, still touching his lover’s nylon clad legs. His mouth soon closed around the government official’s cock as he pulled of his own briefs with the help of one hand, and once he was done Greg started bobbing up and down, which made Mycroft call out his lover’s name.

The detective inspector let the other man’s erection slip out of his mouth, but he closed his hand around it and pumped the cock rapidly as he climbed up over Mycroft. With yet another gasp the younger man took Greg’s member in his hand, and started stroking it at the same pace as his boyfriend stroked him.

When the government official started biting at Greg’s neck he instinctively started rocking forward, and was inspired to continue when Mycroft did so as well. With a hurried movement the policeman tried to adjust the other man’s knickers, but was interrupted when the younger man turned over, showing off his well-shaped arsed lined with crimson lace.

Greg quickly caught on and leant over his lover, thrusting his cock between Mycroft’s cheeks. The friction was made even easier with the pre-come that was leaking from the tip of the detective inspector’s erection, and he was more and more encouraged by his lover’s long moans.

‘I’m- I’m going to…’ was all that Greg managed to squeak between his own pants, but luckily enough his boyfriend was quick to answer.

‘Yes, please… Gregory!’

The policeman helped the younger man to turn around once again, and then their cocks were rubbing against each other again. It only took a few more thrusts for Greg to shoot his load over his lover’s corset, and just another few seconds later the politician came as well, both of them shouting a mix of each other’s names and curses as they did so.

With a careful slow movement Greg moved down again, dedicatedly licking up the white liquid that had been spilled onto the corset. When he was done he crawled up next to Mycroft, and was met by a long, lazy kiss.

‘I never thought that I’d shag a bloke in a corset to _Jingle Bells_ ,but that was really amazing, Mycroft. Have I ever mentioned how utterly perfect and amazing you are?’

The government official chuckled and pressed his lips to one of the other man’s shoulders. 

‘You might have, but I don’t mind getting reminded,’ Mycroft teased and was awarded with a friendly nibble on his earlobe. 


	8. Sneaking Sweets

**Day 8: Sneaking Sweets**

‘Mycroft?’

‘Yes, my dear?’ the politician quickly answered and looked up from his book.

‘Why are there six jars of chocolate bonbons under our bed?’ Greg appeared in the doorway  with one of said jars, inquiringly holding it up towards his boyfriend.

‘Oh.’

The younger man’s first face assumed a sheepish expression, and then shifted to complete embarrassment in the shape of his cheeks turning redder than the garlands around the Christmas tree next to him. With a slow movement Mycroft took of his reading glasses and put them on the coffee table, keeping his eyes on them for a few extra seconds before looking up at his boyfriend.

‘I can explain.’

‘There’s no need to,’ Greg said and looked down with pity at the man in the elegant armchair. ‘If you want to eat sweets then I’m not the one to stop you, but are you sure that _six_ jars aren’t a bit too much?’

‘Ahem… Well, I suppose so.’ The government official shifted in his seat. ‘I thought I could share them with you. Besides, it’s an old Christmas traditi- no _habit_ is the right word for it, of mine.’

Greg nodded, and then experimentally opened the jar and put one of the sweets in his mouth, and then took out another one and moved it towards his boyfriend’s lips. With a surprised look the politician let the policeman put it in his mouth, causing the older man to grin at Mycroft’s look of surprise.

‘Sherlock and I always used to munch on loads of those at Christmas,’ Mycroft continued his explanation. ‘We had to hide them from Mummy, since she considered them to be too unhealthy for us. Of course she was right, but we ate them anyway. Sherlock stopped doing it though when he got into his teens, but I never really stopped.’

The politician patted his stomach jokingly, and then accepted another bonbon from his boyfriend. Then Greg playfully planted a kiss on the other man’s lips, happy to find the familiar taste of Mycroft mixed with the sweet chocolate.

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 9: Holiday Shopping**

‘There is no way in hell I’m putting that thing on!’

Greg looked uncomfortably at the garish knitted sweater his boyfriend presented to him, and was given a deprecatory look from a women passing by with a pram. The garment was deep red, with a waving snowman on the chest. When the policeman had taken a closer look he had found that the snowman was begirded by a dozen green elves with their mouths wide-open as if they were signing, but to Greg it looked more like sinister screams.

‘Oh, don’t be so silly!’ Mycroft tried and held up the sweater in front of the older man to see if the size was right. ‘You are going to look fantastic in it, my love.’

‘But the damned thing looks like the result of what would happen if two of John’s jumpers would get high on confetti and shag,’ prompted the policeman in vain, much to the other man’s amusement.

‘You’re behaving like a child, Gregory,’ the government official concluded and folded the knitted sweater faultlessly, ‘now, let’s get to the checkout, I want to have a look at some new towels at Debenhams before we get home.’

‘No, stop right there!’ The detective inspector grabbed his boyfriend by the shoulder as he tried to head for the checkout, still not happy with the uncomfortable situation. ‘How come I get to wear a sweater that looks like clown-vomit, while you get to buy some new towels?’

When the younger man avoided eye contact Greg took up a pink knitted sweater from the same table on which Mycroft had found the snowman one, and held it up for the government official to look at.

‘If I’m going to wear the creepy snowman one you’re going to have to wear…’ The policeman forgot to finish the sentence when he turned the sweater around, startling as he saw the hideous face of a reindeer giving him an askew smile.

‘Oh God…!’ he exclaimed and looked at Mycroft, who looked as if Greg had presented him with animal carcass.

The politician tried to take a cautious step backwards, his eyes searching for the nearest exit, but his boyfriend interfered with his escape plan by catching hold of his arm. Mycroft resisted and the older man had to cling on to him in order to not let him get way.

‘The evil elves sweater for the one with the drunk Rudolph, it’s nothing but fair!’ Greg said defiantly as he resolutely steered his boyfriend and both the sweaters towards the cash register.

 


	10. A Christmas Wish

**Day 10: A Christmas Wish**

With a pleased humming sound Greg cuddled into the back of his boyfriend, the soft silk of Mycroft’s pyjamas brushing against his own bare chest. The politician shifted slightly in order to make their bodies fit better, and gave up a content snore as the older man put an arm around him.

For the first time in hours Greg was able to let out a long breath, as if he drained out all the day’s exhaustion and obstacles with one single exhalation. He knew that this tranquillity wouldn’t last very long - his and Mycroft’s moments of peace and calmness always ended sooner than either of them wanted. Indeed, the government official was asleep, but nevertheless his bare presence made Greg feel secure and relaxed. If he was honest it was the feeling of not having to go to sleep alone and instead being able to sleep in the same bed as somebody else that was the real relief behind it all. They both had very demanding jobs, and if there was anything in the world that the policeman wished for was to have more time with his boyfriend.

But Greg didn’t get much more time to ponder upon this or anything else for that matter; he was feeling more and more exhausted for every second that went by, and no matter how much he’d rather just lie awake and watch how Mycroft’s chest heaved up and down as he dreamt peacefully. Before he fell asleep however, he felt urged to express his desire in words and not only in thought.

‘All I want for Christmas is more moments like these,’ he whispered and pressed his nose to the soft skin just below his boyfriend’s ear, breathing in the captivating scent of Mycroft, before closing his eyes.

Although the younger man was fast asleep, his lips curved into a small smile as he absently stretched out his neck in order to make it easier for his boyfriend to snuggle into him.


	11. Keeping Warm

**Day 11: Keeping Warm**

Gracefully, making an effort to not spill out the tea on the tray, Mycroft walked into the living room, and then put the tray on the coffee table. Since he had kept his eyes on the filled tea pot he hadn’t noticed the red blanket-like thing Greg had wrapped himself in while the politician had prepared the hot beverage.

‘What’s  that my love?’

‘Oh, just an early Christmas gift to ourselves,’ Greg said with a grin on his face.

As the younger man took a closer look it wasn’t really a simple blanket; it seemed extraordinarily large and had long, cosy-looking sleeves.

‘It’s got sleeves?’ Mycroft inquired with a quizzical nod as he started to pour some tea into the china cups with blue ornaments.

‘Yeah, four.  Now we can drink tea and cuddle under the blanket at the same time!’

He government official couldn’t help but to admire the almost childlike proudness appearing in Greg’s face, his simple want to display his capacity of innovation and care.

‘To me it seems like a perfectly reasonable object to purchase,’ the government official said with a smile and offered his boyfriend one of the cups, which he accepted with his arms in two of the sleeves. Next Mycroft sat down in the sofa as well, and carefully pulled the two remaining sleeves over his own arms before taking his cup of tea from the table. It took the younger man a couple of minutes to adjust, like it always did when he was put to unfamiliar objects or situations, but then after a few sips of tea he crinkled his eyes and pressed a kiss on Greg’s temple. The policeman smiled as well, and snuggled closer to the other man, happy that his impulse purchase had earned Mycroft’s seal of approval. 


	12. Chaos at the North Pole

**Day 12: Chaos at the North Pole**

The familiar feeling of that something bad was going to happen crawled up on Greg sluggishly as the day passed. The reason for this was that his boyfriend had invited him out for dinner. Going out for dinner wasn’t a problem, rather where they went. Or maybe not even that, it was the reason _why_ they went to a certain restaurant that had been the source of the ominous clouds that had been following the policeman all day.

Mycroft had invited him out to a posh restaurant. A _French_ one, in fact. And he only did that when he had either very good or very bad news.

And at the moment Greg was for some unknown, yet convincing reason pretty certain that this dinner date had something bad in store.

The dinner didn’t start out well either; the detective inspector had to run late thanks to the younger Holmes brother who at the last minute had demanded access to some files in NSY archive for the case they were working on. Thanks to that he hadn’t had the time to get changed into some proper clothes for the occasion, and tried his best to ignore the head waiter’s questioning look as he entered the restaurant. He tried to smooth out the creases on the lapels of his suit jacket but he didn’t really manage to make a difference since his tense fingers were more than stiff.

Yet somehow his mood was brightened up significantly when he entered the restaurant and laid eyes upon the ever so awe-inspiring back of the elder Holmes brother. Maybe what the government official had to tell was something good after all.

‘Good evening Gregory,’ Mycroft greeted him shyly.

‘Evening, love,’ Greg answered and smiled with relief as he sat down.

The next quarter of an hour elapsed very leisurely as they ordered their food chatted about their day, Greg relaxing more and more as the time passed. It wasn’t until he started noticing how Mycroft’s phone with short intervals buzzed as it received texts that Greg’s premonitions came back.

Yet the detective inspector did his best to keep those thoughts of his mind, and succeeded quite well, until their starter was served. The constant vibrations of received messages suddenly stopped, only to be followed by a call a few minutes later.

Mycroft gave his boyfriend an exculpatory smile as he cut himself midsentence and pulled out the phone from his inner pocket. After a few short agreeing phrases from the government official and a finishing “I’m on my way” it stood clear that Mycroft would depart presently.

‘I’m sorry, Gregory,’ he began as he took up the napkin in his lap and folded it neatly before putting it on the table, ‘apparently there’s been a major incident at the North Pole.’

‘Oh, really?’ Greg asked sarcastically and began to feel how the foie gras in his mouth lost its taste and became nothing but a mere distraction.

‘Yes, a country of highest importance has carried through with a testing of a rocket launch against the North Pole, and they need somehow to deal with the consequences.’

When Greg didn’t answer and instead just put down his cutlery with a darting sigh, the brown-haired man blinked hesitantly and then continued.

‘I’m sorry, my love,’ the government official repeated.

‘Yeah, but it still doesn’t make you stay, does it?’ the policeman rather stated then asked.

‘Please don’t be like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘So…’ Mycroft stopped to look for the right word as he stood up and put on his coat, ‘so uncomprehending.’

‘Uncompre- _uncomprehending_?’ Greg sputtered out and opened his mouth in distaste. ‘How on earth can you call me uncomprehending when you once again run off to your bloody work when we’re supposed to spend time together? Surely there must be someone else who can do it instead.’

‘No, there isn’t, Gregory,’ the other man answered with a low voice, afraid to draw attention to himself.

‘Oh, but for fuck’s sake Mycroft, get off your high horse for once!’ cried Greg as he followed his boyfriend as who headed for the exit with his tail between his legs. Mycroft apologetically paid the staff on their way out, but as soon they had left the building the policeman continued his accusation.

‘Do you really claim that you’re the only person in this bloody country who can deal with a situation, Mycroft? As important you are for the world’s welfare you can seriously not be that fucking invaluable that no-one can do some of your work when you’re off duty, can you?’

For a few moments the government official just stood there, his hands clutching together as he looked anywhere but on his boyfriend. He was very nervous, which made Greg almost laugh with pity. Mycroft Holmes, the man who secretly directed and governed the world’s leaders was standing in front of him, lost for words. The only thing coming out of his mouth was a steady stream of white smoke, caused by his short breaths in the cold December air.

‘Gregory, this not the time or the place to discuss this,’ he finally said.

‘Isn’t it?’ Greg asked, but didn’t get further since a familiar-looking car stopped next to them on the street.

‘I bid you good night,’ Mycroft shortly concluded and stepped inside the car, obviously doing his best to leave the scene as quickly as possible.

There was nothing else for Greg to do than to sigh angrily and head home, with nothing but his own brain repeatedly reminding him “I told you so”. It seemed like he would spend another night awake, trying his best to get some sleep in the big bed that was far too empty without Mycroft.

 


	13. A Snowman's Tale

**Day 13: A Snowman's Tale**

Mycroft was met by an unexpected calmness as he treaded into the cold flat. His boyfriend was obviously at home, there was no doubt about that. He had made sure that he was, otherwise he wouldn’t had come home at this moment; the government official’s diplomatic instincts had told him that it was important that Mycroft would be the one coming home to Gregory, and not the other way around.

What the brown-haired man hadn’t foreseen was that he would find his boyfriend on the sofa, with a pile of files spread out on the table next to him. Greg looked up with genuine surprise and took a few seconds until he sat up.

‘Evening,’ he said as he gave Mycroft a strange look, ‘You’re much earlier than I thought you’d be.’

‘I managed to divert the problems at hand to another division,’ the government official said thoughtfully as he sat down in the armchair next to the sofa, ‘at least for a while.’

‘Oh.’

‘Do you want me to get you some dinner? I cou-’

‘No, it’s fine I’ve already had some.’

There was an unsurprising moment of silence. Mycroft didn’t move at all in his seat, and Greg’s jaw tightened the longer the silence elapsed.

‘I have already informed you that I’m sorry,’ the younger man started, ‘but I didn’t tell you that you were indeed quite right in what you stated yesterday.’

Greg joined his hands together as he rested his elbows on his knees, waiting for a further amplification.

‘The work I do is very unusual to most occupations, and therefore rightfully demands more time and effort than most do, but I am no “super human”, as you’ve stated, and not everything has to be done solely by me on every occasion.’

Mycroft looked up to see what kind of reaction his premeditated statement had caused, and was sorry to find that the silver-haired man didn’t seem too happy about it.

‘So you think everything hunky dory now, or what?’ the policeman wondered sarcastically.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It’s just not that, Mycroft, how about all those times you’ve disappeared for days, even weeks, without even telling when you’d be back?’

The younger man sighed tiredly. ‘Are you going to make me conscious of each and every single one of my faults now, Gregory, or what are you going at?’

‘Just answer my question,’ the detective inspector said coolly, showing of his skills of of handling a conversation which many criminals of London had experienced.  ‘Don’t you remember how you last month just went away one morning, without a single word, and didn’t come back for a week?’

‘I couldn’t tell you where I was, the location for the meetings I attended were secret,’ Mycroft tried, but it did little to calm down his boyfriend’s fury.

‘You didn’t tell me you’d get back, hell for all I knew you might as well would have been dead.’

‘Gregory, that was over a month ago, it’s not relevant.’

The detective inspector stood up abruptly, and walked align back and forth to the wall with the grand fireplace, his boyfriend’s eyes following him uncomfortably.

 ‘Of course it’s relevant,’ Greg then whispered, and looked into the empty fireplace, ‘because it’s going to happen again, Mycroft. And I’m not sure if I want to live in uncertainty like that again.’

‘Gregory-’

‘But what about you? When you were away, didn’t you wonder how I was doing? If I was being alright? You know, my job’s pretty dangerous too,’ Greg challenged the other man. ‘But then again you have you spies, don’t you?’

‘No, Gregory, I don’t keep you under any form of surveillance,’ the other man said with conviction, ‘and of course I miss you when I’m away.’

Mycroft stood up and took a few steps closer to his lover, putting his hand tentatively on Greg’s elbow, as if it would have been a switched on cooking plate. But when he touched him it was more like touching something close to ice rather than to fire.

‘Are those trips and sudden meetings you have to attend just a gentlemanly way of trying to tell me that you’re not interested anymore?’

‘No, Gregory,’ Mycroft hooked his gaze with the other man and spoke slowly, putting emphasis on every word, ‘that’s not it.’

‘Then why are you doing it?’ Greg demanded, turning up his nose inquiringly.

‘Because I’m a man of habit; I’ve been able to live my life independently, without having to care about whether I spend too little time with my close ones or not, and now…’ Mycroft put his hands on his sides and made a short break, in order to gather courage to continue. ‘Now I’ve got you, and I have to get in to my head that my work isn’t my main priority. I love you, Gregory, and I want this to work.’

‘Me too, but we’re not making it easy, do we?’ the other man said with the hint of a sad smile coming onto his face. ‘Just tell me when you’re going away, and for how long, that’s all I demand.’

‘Yes, but you should demand more,’ Mycroft countered, his face depicting the concentration and process of thought that went through his mind, ‘You shouldn’t settle with that. I promise to call you more often whenever I’m away, and when we’re out together, I won’t just run off.’

‘Good,’ the policeman said with relief, ‘and I’m sorry I’m being so demanding and irritating, it’s just… There’s been a lot going on lately.’

The government official dared a little chuckle. ‘Never mind that, you’ve been nothing but reasonable. Just promise to help me, and this will all be fine.’

‘Only if you help me,’ Greg smiled and leaned forward in order to hug his boyfriend, glad that their quarrel was over.

‘Of course. Besides, I’ve been far too active in my job ever since I started - it’s time for this country to start standing on its own feet, I won’t always be here to support it and tell it how to walk.’

With a chuckle the silver-haired man stroked the back of Mycroft’s head, and was happy when he was met with a tender kiss from the lips it seemed like he hadn’t touched for years.


	14. Carolling in the Town Square

**Day 14: Carolling in the Town Square**

‘Oh, come on!’ said Greg disappointedly and got a dozen of howling voices with him as the man behind the counter tried desperately to change the channel on the TVs on the walls of the pub.

‘Sorry lads, it’s stuck,’ he announced and yet another wave of disapproving grunts rinsed the pub as Greg and John shrugged and almost simultaneously took a sip of their lagers.

‘Ah well, at least we can have a look at the results afterwards…’ John tried without really believing in his words, ‘it’s not the last time they’ll play football, you know.’

‘Yeah, but nevertheless,’ Greg said and shot the closest screen a suspicious look as a programme with a boys choir singing Christmas carols appeared. ‘Oh, brilliant, seems like well have to watch this all night then.’

‘Carols aren’t too bad.’

‘They are if you’ve actually been in a choir and been forced to learn them all off by heart and then sung them a hundred times.’ The policeman fiddled with the opened packet of crisps in his hands, as John started to smile.

‘You were in a choir?’

‘Yes, before my- before we moved to London. There wasn’t too much to do in the countryside really, and if you’re seven the idea of singing a bit every other weekend and gaining some sweets for it didn’t seem like a too nasty idea.’

‘Suppose so,’ the army doctor contemplated as he looked at the choir singing their carols in some square in London he couldn’t quite recall the name of at the moment. With indifference he noted that he wasn’t as resistant to the haze clouding his mind caused by the beer as he had been in younger years.

‘By the way,’ Greg said and interrupted the other man’s trains of thoughts, or lack thereof, ‘do you and Sherlock fancy coming over to us this Christmas? And Mrs Hudson and Molly too, of course.’

‘It’d be super, he needs to get out a bit and see a bit of people. Who aren’t dead,’ John amended with a little sigh.

‘I’ll text you more about it later, alright?’

‘Indeed.’ The blond-haired man nodded, and then added with a laugh: ‘Let’s just hope that no tricky serial killer happens to kill anyone before the 25th – then there might be a chance that we’ll have a peaceful Christmas for once.’

‘Ha, I’ll drink to that!’ the detective inspector chuckled, but in his mind he made a silent prayer that no new financial crises or wars would be started before Christmas Day either.


	15. Ice-skating

**Day 15: Ice-skating**

It was with tight, almost frantic at first, grips around each other’s hands Mycroft and Greg glided out on the ice rink. Their instability quickly made the government official realise that ice-skating maybe wasn’t the best idea for a fun Saturday afternoon after all. Greg had a huge grin on his face which grew bigger as his movements became more and more steady. After a while he let go of his boyfriend’s hand, daringly starting to go round Mycroft in circles that the brown-haired man deemed just _a bit_ too small.

The creased expression on the younger man’s face only encouraged Greg to continue, and soon he caught hold of Mycroft’s hands again and started to spin around. The brown-haired man was about as stiff as the sails of a windmill, while the detective inspector spun around him with his knitted scarf in a hurl after him.

Even though Mycroft kept his arms extended straight from his body the other man started to close up on him, and after little while the government official started to get the hang of his idea and relaxed a bit more. Greg slowed down the closer he got to his boyfriend, and after a few more circles around the other man he was just up next to Mycroft, their hands between them. A face of complete amusement spread over the policeman’s face as he gently rubbed his nose against his boyfriend’s, who truth to be told seemed a bit dizzy after the spinning. The older man finally pressed his cold lips against Mycroft’s, and a blush of pink appeared not only on the brown-haired man’s cheeks, but also on the tip his nose.

With a chuckle the detective inspector set out again over the ice, with his boyfriend in tow. Maybe falling embarrassingly and cause humiliation in front of the other ice-skaters were worth the risk after all Mycroft decided, and pulled up his collar in order to cover up his flushed face.


	16. The Nutcracker

**Day 16: The Nutcracker**

Mycroft heaved the third cup of coffee for the afternoon with a frown before he put the cup back on his desk; he didn’t like the taste of the beverage, but it was bitter enough to keep his mind relatively sharp. His and Greg’s agreement that he would try to spend less time at work was a good one in theory, but had been a bit more difficult to implement in real life. Fortunately the ever present Anthea was there to help him with the day’s chores – the consequences of what was now known “The North Pole Incident”.

She was also helping him to figure out what to get Gregory for Christmas, which at the moment seemed trickier than to deal with the UN officials. In wave of panic earlier in the morning the same day Mycroft had ordered a Christmas hamper to give his boyfriend for starters, but then his PA had pointed out that as sweet as it was to give mulled wine and nibbles, getting a silver ornate nutcracker might send the wrong vibes. That was the reason to why the two of them now were alternately working with calming down the world’s leading governments, and alternately eating walnuts while contemplating over Christmas presents.

Instead Anthea had come with a list of more suitable gifts: at first she had proposed maybe something more relevant to the policeman’s interest such as music, but the government official pointed out that letting Gregory choose his records for himself probably was for the best. Then she had suggested that maybe perfume, it was simple without being ungenerous. Furthermore, she pointed out that choosing what fragrance his boyfriend should bear was a nice bonus, which caused Mycroft to laugh shyly.

Her last suggestion was some kind of subtle jewellery - they were lovers after all, if not even life partners as Mycroft kindly amended. The government official remembered that Gregory had told him that when he was younger he had worn earrings, so the detective inspector would probably not be put off by the idea, and it was therefore a good one. After a few moments of deliberation Mycroft concluded that was even the right one. He decided that he would buy the gift the next day, accompanied by Anthea of course. She had prompted to come along, and even though he had pretended to be a bit reluctant at first, he was more than grateful that she would join him. Buying a Christmas gift for the love of his life was probably going to be more difficult to deal with than any global peace threat, and he felt that it was necessary for someone to help him in his quest. 


	17. The Ghost of Christmas Past

**Day 17: The Ghost of Christmas Past**

‘Oh, sorry Mycroft, I forgot to tell you,’ Greg said distantly as he flicked through the day’s newspaper with his crossed legs flung over the sofa, ‘John accepted the invitation to come over for Christmas dinner when we were at the pub, and so did Molly today.’

‘Great.’ Mycroft looked up from the papers he was signing from the armchair next to his boyfriend. ‘I am sure Mrs Hudson wont decline either.’

The government official let a minute pass before he opened his mouth to speak again. ‘Are your… are your parents coming?’

Holding his breath he held on for answer, wondering if he had passed an undefined line. Greg had never mentioned his parents, always changing the subject whenever their conversations started to stir towards the topic of their parents.

‘No,’ the answer came silently as Greg sat up, ‘my mum’s going to my sister’s and, well… my dad’s dead.’

‘I’m sorry Gregory,’ the brown-haired started before giving the words a thought, but then carefully decided that maybe it was for the best to drop the matter. The policeman obviously didn’t like the subject, and bringing it up in the first place had been unkind.

But the detective inspector had other plans, and carefully put down the papers in his hands before he spoke again.

‘He died, ahum… he died on the 21st of December the year I turned twelve.’

Mycroft trembled on his words and nervously started clicking on his pen, the sudden realisation of why his boyfriend had been so suspicious about Christmas winded up with his confusion with how to proceed on the subject. But when the policeman’s face turned pale and he started to bite his lips in order to hold back his tears Mycroft by instinct moved over to the sofa in an instant, gently pulling his arms around the silver-haired man.

‘He got killed in a car accident,’ Greg managed to say between his tears.

With no suiting words springing to mind the government official decided to not say anything, he only petted Greg’s back slowly with one hand as his boyfriend curled up in his embrace. His other hand was partly settled under the older man’s jaw and with his fingers he supported Greg’s head, and occasionally wiping away the tears as the fell down his left cheek.

‘There was a reason to why I didn’t want to bring this up,’ the detective inspector started to mumble. ‘Every single time I come to think about it, it’s like the news of his death reach me for the first time. Just after it had happened, for the first couple of months or so, the sorrow was constantly there at the back of my mind. And as soon as I started to think about it, it was like it hit me once again, like I’d never heard it before, and each time I yet another time realised what had happened. It’s not that bad anymore, but…’

When Greg decided to not finish the sentence his boyfriend pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to him.

‘I’m not going to say or pretend that it’s alright, that it doesn’t make any difference,’ Mycroft then said, ‘because it’s not fine, and it does matter.. If it’s for any consolation, I’m terribly sorry.’

‘Thank you,’ the other man said, and closed his eyes for a few seconds as he swallowed determinedly. ‘Would you mind just holding me for a while?’

Mycroft answered by pulling his boyfriend closer, hauling him in to protect him from his sorrows. At first the government official wondered if he should continue to stroke his back, but as Greg exhaled shakily he decided to carry on. The sadness that had put down the policeman so completely was somehow also affecting Mycroft himself as he continued to hold the other man in his arms, and silently a tear of his own fell onto his boyfriend’s head. Yet they both felt that there was hope, what had happened was after all far back in the future. But still they reached a completely new stage of their relationship as they both easily cried over something as simple as the absence of a certain human being.

 


	18. A Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of inspired by this http://virtualvasey.lofg.com/images/gallery/fhm_aug09.jpg

**Day 18: A Night Out**

‘Gre-Gregory…’ Mycroft slurred as he lay in his boyfriend lap in the backseat of one of his usual black cars. ‘I’ve ’ad _great_ fun t’night.’

‘So have I,’ Greg laughed as he stroked the other man’s for once ruffled hair. He looked down at the tall man curling up in his lap, with his long legs spread out on the leather seats.

‘You looked _magnificent_ on the dance floor, you know,’ the government official continued his praise, ‘I really enjoyed that…’ he stopped for a few seconds to put the right words to his thoughts, ‘that wiggly, shaking thing you did with your body before you got back to the bar. Shame you didn’t continue.’

Once again the other man laughed, but didn’t have the heart to tell his boyfriend the reason why “that wiggly, shaking” move he had made at the end of his dance had caused him to pull a muscle.

‘And that woman was to lend me her-’

‘It was a man, Mycroft, a cross dresser.’

The brown-haired man froze and frowned in confusion, his gaze seemingly darting over the car’s ceiling.

‘Well, that explains why his breast looked so pointedly,’ he then said, with a tired expression that showed that he thought was back on track. ‘Anyway, he was very kind to lend me his lipstick.’

Assuming another look of amusement Greg tried his best not to point out to his boyfriend that he had red, messy lines all around his mouth except for on the lips. ‘Yeah, the colour’s really matching your eyes, love.’

‘Are you taking the piss, Gregory?’ Mycroft said and looked the policeman in the eyes, but only managed to hold his gaze for a few seconds before blinking exhaustedly.

‘Not at all, not at all.’

‘Good.’

Another good five minutes passed in silence, and for a moment Greg thought that the man in his lap had fallen asleep. At least he did so until Mycroft shifted over on his other side so that his face was turned against the silver-haired man’s crotch. The detective inspector couldn’t help but to laugh once more when the younger man tried to use his mouth to unzip the flyer of Greg’s trousers.

‘What on earth are you doing Mycroft?’

‘I’m about to give you a blowjob, what d’you think?’ the other man mumbled, but the last few words got mixed up when he seemingly managed to get his tongue stuck in the flyer.

‘Well, no, not now, not here. Where in a car-’

‘That’s never stopped you before,’ Mycroft stated with a pleased grin.

‘Not the point!’ Greg said, ‘You’re drunk and you’re almost falling asleep every other second. Last thing I’d what is to explain why the British government has choked to death in the back seat of his car.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ the brown-haired man said grumpily, but turned around back to his former position, grunting disappointedly in the direction of Greg’s half-open trousers as he did so. Two minutes later Mycroft started snoring, and the detective inspector himself started to feel very tired as well. He had drunk quite some this evening too, and his last thoughts as he drifted off to sleep was that taking out Mycroft to Soho on Tuesday night might had been one of his better ideas lately. 


	19. A Christmas Bath

**Day 19: A Christmas Bath**

The warmth from the water both made Greg’s nerve stay on edge as well as ease them as he sank down into the bath tub. It was only the second time since he had moved in that he just the tub with cast iron feet in the spacious bathroom, the old-fashioned went along perfectly with Mycroft’s newly acquired towels, and the basin was made out the same kind of marble as the tile on the floor.

He had never really been accustomed to tubs since he had never owned one, and because taking a bath always took up much more time than taking a much more practical shower. Anyhow, today he had the time, and he took another sip of the red wine before putting the glass back on a side table.

If it wouldn’t have been for the silent thump of the drop of a suitcase in the hallway Greg wouldn’t had noticed that his boyfriend had returned home. Within a minute, without giving a single more sound, Mycroft was in the bathroom too, presently kneeling behind the policeman. He tenderly planted a kiss on Greg’s forehead, which caused the older man to smile.

‘Hello there beautiful,’ the detective inspector whispered and looked up only to see the front curl of Mycroft’s hair vanish as the other man took a step backwards. Apparently he must have pulled up his sleeves, for when he reached out his right hand to entwine his fingers with his lover they ended at his elbows.

The brown-haired man murmured something sounding like a “good evening” as he nuzzled his nose into Greg’s nape, and then pressed his lips along the policeman’s shoulder. When Greg leant his head backwards he was pleased to find that he could rest against the government official’s chest, and closed his eyes for a few moments as the other man gently stroked along his lower arm. Greg turned his head so that he could reach the other man’s chin with his lips, and kindly sucked on Mycroft’s jawline which earned him a pleased hum.

‘How does the idea of me joining you in the bath tub sound?’ the brown-haired man asked with a dreamy, almost teasing voice. He took Greg’s kiss on his cheek as an approval, and stood up and stepped aside in order to put his soon removed clothes on a hanger.

In the meantime the detective inspector grinned as he took another sip of wine, admiring the view of Mycroft slowly undressing. It seemed like the relaxing bath might be even better than he had expected.

 


	20. Mulled Wine and Gingerbread

**Day 20: Mulled Wine and Gingerbread**

‘Latte isn’t very Christmas-y though, is it?’ Greg asked as Mycroft had ordered for the two of them. The government official took his gaze of the young girl behind the counter and looked surprised at the older man for just a second.

‘Ahum, no…’ Mycroft said as he regained his focus. ‘Do you have mulled wine? Splendid, then well have that and some gingerbread and saffron buns, please.’

Then the brown-haired man assumed a pleased smile and took out his wallet in order to pay for them. Greg noticed this, and as Mycroft had turned around, he let their fingers brush against each other when they steered out to find an empty table in the crowded café. 


	21. Getting Ready

**Day 21: Getting Ready**

‘Maybe I don’t really have to go to that dinner after all,’ Mycroft whispered into his boyfriend’s ear, ‘I am sure the royal family won’t mind, they are usually thankful for a bit of privacy.’

‘Probably not,’ Greg pondered, still keeping completely still, his chest pressed against the government official’s.

They still stood in their hallway, Mycroft in his coat as he just had come home, and Greg in a pair of worn jeans and an old t-shirt. The brown-haired man had only had the time to put down his briefcase before Greg had got into the room and embraced him. That was the reason to why the policeman now held Mycroft completely still in his arms, and to why the younger man held an arm around Greg’s waist and one on his shoulder.

For a few minutes they had been completely immobile, except for their lips which had exchanged greetings and the agreement to have an evening in. Mycroft suddenly realised that this was exactly what he needed – just being close to his boyfriend, without any hurry in the world.

‘You’ve had your hair cut,’ he stated as he inhaled so very close to Greg’s nape. Slowly the government official leant forward and rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. As their cheeks touched he noticed the policeman’s smooth skin, and added: ‘And had a proper shave too.’

‘One has to look decent for Christmas,’ Greg said, and then continued with a smile that Mycroft rather felt than saw, ‘especially when we’re having people over. Speaking of which, have you done the shopping for the Christmas dinner yet.’

‘Ah,’ Mycroft said in a tone most people would have cursed with. ‘Perhaps we could do that now?’

Greg chuckled and pulled away in order to put own his own coat, and noticed that the government official’s ear had turned a few shades redder. 


	22. The Naughty or Nice List

**Day 22: The Naughty or Nice List**

‘Stop that!’ Greg said and cleared his throat nervously. He shot a worried glance around the tiny room, even though they dined in a private booth, sealed off from the restaurant by walls with an awful flower pattern.

‘What?’ Mycroft asked very casually, raising an eyebrow casually.

‘With that…’ the policeman tried to not think about how Mycroft a few seconds earlier had told him what a shame it was that they’d have guests over from Christmas, he would so much rather have Greg to himself over the whole holidays. Preferably in their bedroom. Completely naked, except for a blindfold. Maybe some red wrapping string too. After all, it was Christmas.

Greg shook his head and tried to divert his thoughts. ‘Do you _want_ me to get a boner in public?’

‘Don’t be so vulgar, my dear,’ the other man smirked as he took a sip of his wine, well aware of how his words affected the silver-haired man. ‘It’s your own fault that you’re on the naughty list...’

Without being able to help himself Greg opened his mouth, only to close it a second later. There was something admirable, and tremendously arousing, about how his boyfriend teased him with a tone that he usually used when he talked about grocery shopping or the weather. The only difference between how he spoke about those topics and how he teased Greg was a visible one - even though the government official looked as good as indifferent, or even bored, he wasn’t able to hide a slight curve of the right corner of his mouth.

The waiter came with their food a few seconds later, and the older man thanked God for letting the table cloth be so large that it covered up his nether regions. They started to eat their food, and Greg could swear that Mycroft was licking his lips on purpose after each time he drank some wine. But Greg could also play this game.

‘How about you then, Mycroft? Are you on the naughty or nice list?’

‘It depends,’ the younger man answered, seemingly more prepared than the policeman had expected. ‘Do you want me to?’

‘You already know the answer to that.’ The detective inspector caught the other man’s gaze and held it, lingering for a few seconds before purposefully putting a hand on Mycroft’s thigh.

Mycroft raised his elaborately plucked eyebrow once again, this time in surprise. A change of the rules. He hadn’t expected that. Before he had got the time to use it to his own advantage Greg let go of his gaze and drank some of his own wine, teasingly stretching out his neck as he swallowed the last of it. Unconsciously the brown-haired man let his eyes wander over his boyfriend’s shirt as the material stretched out over his chest as he reached for the bottle of wine with his free hand.

When Greg realised his advantage over the man next to him he daringly let his hand slide closer to Mycroft’s crotch. In a move with which he was hoping to win the battle he leant over the younger man’s shoulder, his lips not even half an inch from his boyfriend’s ear when he whispered:

‘We both know that you’re on the list just as well as I am. In fact you probably have been naughtier than I have this year.’ Even though Mycroft face seemed to be set in stone the detective inspector knew he had won when a single pearl of sweat run down from the edge of the younger man’s hair down over his cheek. With a soft brush over the growing tent in Mycroft’s the expensive suit he confirmed his conquest.

‘Yes, Mycroft, you’ve really been at it…’ the policeman continued, his voice raw and raucous, ‘do you remember how you dressed up in women’s lingerie just a fortnight ago?’

‘Yes, of course,’ the other man answered with as much calm as he could obtain. ‘But do you remember what you did to me in the bushes at the earl’s garden party?’ When the silver-haired man’s pupil dilated Mycroft understood that he had his chance. ‘Do you remember how you pulled me with you into the rhododendron bushes, your eyes practically begging me to let you fuck me? You had to bit your fist in order to muffle your screams so that the other guests wouldn’t hear you, as you came inside me, remember?’

Suddenly their battle of dominance was led by Mycroft, who took his opportunity and slowly caressed the knuckles of the hand that was placed on his crotch. But the policeman wouldn’t let this continue for long, and once again his mouth was brushing against Mycroft’s ear as he spoke so quietly that his words were almost inaudible.

‘But who was it who sucked me off in the men’s at John’s birthday party? Or made a call on me to come over to your office, in nothing but my leather trousers?’

The government official inhaled quickly, and Greg made an appreciative sound as the younger man then licked his lips, careful not to lose his grip of the situation. Passionately he licked the younger man’s earlobe, but stopped when Mycroft responded with an uncontrolled moan in the back of his throat.

‘Oh, but Mycroft,’ the detective inspector teased as he breathed hotly into the other man’s ear, ‘we can’t have you moaning here at a restaurant, can we? Disturbing the other guests isn’t very nice. Maybe I should spank you, the naughty little boy you are…’

The brown-haired man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and was caught off-guard as Greg slide one of his hands under his waistcoat and beneath the front tails of his shirt. Cupping Mycroft’s erection, the policeman took his wine glass and had some more wine before he drew a few circles over the other man’s briefs.

‘How about skipping dessert and head home instead? I want so see how quickly I can rip that three piece suit of your body,’ the silver-haired murmured into his boyfriend’s ear and was met by an approving nod. Without any further ado Greg pulled his hand out of Mycroft’s trousers as the government official put a few pound notes on the table, and then they both stood up abruptly. But as they left their private booth Mycroft pinched his lover’s jeans-clad arse, causing the older man to give up a surprised that drew him some attention from a waitress passing by. Greg might have won the first battle of tonight’s wars, but Mycroft was determined to get his revanche as soon as they reached their bedroom. 


	23. The Ghost of Christmas Present

**Day 23: The Ghost of Christmas Present**

‘I love you.’

Greg couldn’t have said it simpler, but his smiling lips and almost shimmering eyes reflected the honesty of the words. His silver hair was definitely glittering in the tired light from the lampposts, and so were the snowflakes that had landed in his short strands. Mycroft’s fingers tightened around his boyfriend’s hand, and his whole face reflected his happiness when he looked into the other man’s eyes.

‘I love you too.’


	24. Last Minute Cleaning

**Day 24: Last Minute Cleaning**

‘We are _never_ going to get this ready in time.’

‘Cheer up Mycroft,’ Greg prompted as he put the lid on the last of the jars on the kitchen counter, ‘I’m done with all the food we can do at the moment, so I’ll come and help you in a minute.’

The government official said something inaudible out in the living room, probably some kind of curse if Greg had to guess. Cleaning had never been Mycroft’s area. He didn’t like to do it, but required that his home to be impeccable or a minor catastrophe would occur (which Greg had learnt the hard way).

There was another grump from Mycroft in the other room, and shortly after that there was a loud thumping noise and high-pitched scream.

‘Mycroft?’ the policeman asked slowly as he washed his hands, ‘Are you alright in there?’

The answer came in the shape of a weak squirm and Greg decided to see how bad it was. He found his boyfriend lying on his back on the floor, well, on the Persian matt, with a feather duster in his hand and a stool flipped over next to him.

‘Gregory…,’ Mycroft trembled dramatically and pointed to his foot, ‘I think I might have sprained my ankle.’

To the eye he looked unharmed, his pride probably more hurt than his ankle. Mycroft could be a real diva if he was in the right mood for it. Greg sighed and got down on his knees. ‘Come on love, I can dust the rest of the shelves. You just go and get yourself some whiskey and sit down in an armchair.’

The detective inspector offered the damsel in distress his arm which he accepted with a weak smile. ‘Thank you. You know, this would never have happened if Miss Howell would have been here.’

‘Cleaners have the right to celebrate Christmas too.’

‘Yes but… I work hard all year round in order to not have to do these kinds of things,’ Mycroft tried as he sank down in his armchair. He gave up though as he realised Greg had turned around and started to clean the last of the shelves.

‘I think you could leave those, and get over here instead.’

‘Are you sure? I mean, it would be _so_ embarrassing if there would be two specks of dust lying around on the shelves when our guests come over tomorrow,’ Greg teased.

‘I think I can stand it,’ the brown-haired man answered, ‘Now get that lovely blanket you bought and sit down here next to me. If I can remember it correctly, cuddling is the best cure for sprained ankles.’


	25. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come

**Day 25: The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come**

Greg woke up to the soft touch of his boyfriend’s lips pressing against his shoulder. He hummed approvingly as he turned around, and was met by the sight of Mycroft, who was already fully-clothed, standing next to the bed.

‘Merry Christmas, my love,’ the brown-haired man said as a wide smile broke up on his face.

‘Merry Christmas to you too,’ came the murmuring answer as Greg blinked tiredly a few times and stretched out his arms.

‘Would you care for some breakfast? I could come in with it in a minute, the water’s just boiled.’

‘You’re an angel, Mycroft.’

As the government official went out to fetch the food Greg patted himself on his cheeks, like an athlete before performing his sport. It was now or never. He sat up and opened the drawer on his side of the bed, and shuffled over a book and some papers in order to reveal a little box, not bigger than to fit in the palm of his hand. As he opened it and looked at the golden ring inside it, decorated with four small diamonds next to each other on one side, the policeman wondered if it was not enough. Or if it was too much. All he was completely sure of was that this was the completely wrong time to propose to his boyfriend. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe proposing in his pyjamas sitting on the edge of a bed was considered romantic?

The last thing that went through his mind as he hid the box behind his back was a slightly panicked “shit”. Mycroft entered the room with a tray in his hands, and a humble look upon his face.

‘Mycroft,’ Greg started carefully, ‘before we have breakfast there’s something I’d like to ask you.’

The younger man blinked a few times, and Greg saw that a little box, not very different to the one he held behind his back, was placed on the tray, next to a wrapped in gift and a plate of bacon.

‘As a matter of fact there’s something I’d like to ask you too,’ Mycroft said, his heart skipping a couple of beats as he put down the tray on the side drawer and picked up the box from it.

‘Are you…?’ the other man stumbled as he brought his own box containing the gold ring back from behind himself.

‘Yes… I…’ said Mycroft, his voice shaking as he opened up the box in his hand and revealed a ring inside it as well. He got completely lost for words as Greg stood up with the four diamond-ornate ring in his hand.

All he managed to do was to throw his arms around Greg, both of them laughing as they swayed around in each other’s arms. Their chuckles were alternated by small cries of “yes!”, and when they had managed to stand still for more than a second, Greg put his ring on Mycroft’s finger, who then he put his ring on Greg’s. Finally when they had both recovered from their surprise and nervousness, Mycroft took his fiancé’s hand and smiled.

‘Come on now,’ Greg said with a look of complete bliss upon his face, ‘our guests are going to be here within an hour, and I still haven’t had breakfast yet!’

‘That’s your own fault!’ Mycroft exclaimed teasingly. ‘If you manage to get that food down your throat before they get here it’s a Christmas miracle!’

‘I will never have enough of those!’ the silver-haired man answered and took Mycroft in his arms once more, hauling him in for a long kiss.


End file.
